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The millionaire’s baby bit all the nannies, but smiled at this one. In the last six months, 15 nannies had been hospitalized with bites from a baby barely 18 months old. And the 16th had just run out of the Mendoza mansion with blood dripping from her right arm. Die Lego Mendoza.

 From his office window, he watched as the woman fled in terror toward the main gate, cursing aloud as she clutched her injured arm. She was the third nanny to quit that week. His cell phone kept ringing with calls from the Domestic Workers Agency, but Diego already knew what they would say. There were no more candidates available. Mr. Mendoza.

 We need to talk urgently. The voice of Mrs. García, the housekeeper, interrupted his thoughts. The 60-year-old woman had worked for the family for over two decades, but he had never seen her so worried as in recent months. “What’s wrong now, Mrs. García?” Diego asked without taking his eyes off the window.

It’s about little Mateo, sir. The situation is getting worse every day. This morning he bit the gardener when he tried to go over and say hello. And yesterday, he tried to bite his own pediatrician during the appointment. Diego slowly turned away.

 His dark eyes reflected the weariness of a man who hadn’t slept more than three hours straight in months. At 32, he was the youngest CEO of a billion-euro tech company. But all his professional success seemed insignificant when he couldn’t control his own son’s behavior. “Where’s Mateo now?” he asked hoarsely. “Locked in his room, sir. He’s been crying ever since the nanny left.”

 I tried to approach her several times, but Mrs. García instinctively touched a small bandage on her wrist. She also tried to bite me. Diego ran his hands through his dark hair. Since the death of his wife Elena in a car accident, when Mateo was just 6 months old, the baby had developed increasingly aggressive behavior.

 Child psychologists talked about trauma, premature grief, attachment disorders, but none of their theories had led to a practical solution. “Sir, if I may suggest something,” the housekeeper continued cautiously. “Say anything, Mrs. Garcia, I’m desperate. Perhaps we should consider a specialized boarding school. I know of an institution in Switzerland that works with difficult cases like Mateo’s.”

 The suggestion hit Diego like a ton of bricks. The idea of ​​being separated from his son, the only link he had left with Elena, was unbearable, but at the same time he knew the current situation was untenable. At that moment, Mateo’s heart-wrenching cries intensified from upstairs.

 It was a sound Diego had learned to recognize. It wasn’t hunger, or sleepiness, or physical discomfort. It was pure rage, frustration, and emotional pain, concentrated in the lungs of a child who couldn’t yet speak. “Has the new cleaning lady arrived yet?” Diego asked, trying to change the subject as he headed for the stairs.

Yes, sir. Carmen Rodríguez, 24, comes highly recommended by the agency. She’s working in the east wing of the house. Diego nodded absently. In recent months, he’d lost count of how many employees had come through his house. Most lasted only a few days before requesting a transfer to another residence, claiming the atmosphere was too tense due to the baby’s constant crying.

 She took the marble stairs two at a time, following the sound of crying that seemed to pierce the walls. Reaching the second-floor hallway, she stopped in front of Mateo’s bedroom door. For a few seconds, she simply stood there, her hand on the doorknob, gathering the courage to face once more the resentful gaze of her own son.

 When he finally opened the door, he found the room exactly as he expected. Toys were scattered on the floor, some broken in the child’s frustration, and Mateo was standing in his crib, clinging to the bars like a little prisoner, his face red from crying and tears streaming down his cheeks. The moment Mateo saw his father, his crying intensified even more.

 He stretched out his little arms toward Diego, but when Diego reached out to pick him up, the boy tried to bite his hand. It was the same old pattern. He wanted affection, but at the same time, he violently rejected it. “Mateo, please,” Diego murmured, feeling his voice crack. “Daddy’s here. I’m not going to hurt you.” But the boy didn’t seem to hear him.

 His eyes, the same dark color as his father’s, shone with a disturbing intensity for someone so small. It was as if there were a constant storm raging inside that little body, a storm that no one had ever been able to calm.

 Diego sat in the rocking chair by the window, the same one where Elena used to breastfeed Mateo during his first months of life. He remembered how his wife had once told him that babies could sense their parents’ emotions, that they were like little sponges absorbing all the love and all the anguish around them. “Maybe it’s my fault,” Diego thought as he watched his son continue to cry.

Perhaps he can sense my despair, my frustration, my failure as a father. Mateo’s cries echoed throughout the mansion, a constant reminder that despite all his wealth and power, Diego Mendoza had finally encountered a problem that money couldn’t solve. Carmen Rodríguez was finishing cleaning the windows in the main hall when she heard hurried footsteps in the corridor.

 She had only been working at the Mendoza mansion for three hours, but she had already noticed something strange in the atmosphere, a tense silence occasionally broken by heart-wrenching cries coming from upstairs. “Is it normal for a baby to cry so much?” she had asked Esperanza, the cook, while having lunch in the servants’ kitchen.

 “Oh, child, it’s best not to ask,” the older woman had replied, crossing herself. “That little boy is different. He’s made many good employees run away from here.” Now, as she carefully folded the cleaning cloths, Carmen reflected on those words of hope.

 She had grown up in a humble neighborhood in Madrid, the eldest of four siblings. Since she was twelve, she had cared for babies and toddlers to help her family financially. She had never met a child she couldn’t calm with patience and affection. The sound of a door slamming shut upstairs interrupted her thoughts. Then, absolute silence, a silence even more unsettling than the previous cries.

Carmen crept up the stairs, pushing the cleaning cart with her. According to her instructions, she was to clean the second-floor rooms while the family was away. The housekeeper had specifically warned her to avoid the baby’s room, but curiosity and maternal instinct compelled her to proceed.

 Upon reaching the upper hallway, he stopped in front of a half-open door. Through the crack, he could see part of a child’s room: walls painted sky blue with white clouds, a carved wooden crib, and toys scattered across a plush rug. It was a room any child would envy, but something about the atmosphere felt melancholic.

 Suddenly she heard a thud, as if something had fallen to the floor. Carmen gently pushed open the door and peeked inside. What she saw took her breath away. A small boy dressed in blue teddy bear pajamas had climbed out of his crib and was sitting on the floor, surrounded by books he had apparently knocked down from a low shelf.

 The little boy had dark, curly hair plastered to his forehead with sweat from crying so much. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were swollen, but there was something in his expression that wasn’t anger or a tantrum. Carmen, with her experience caring for children, immediately recognized what she saw: profound loneliness and confusion. “Hello, little one,” Carmen whispered, slowly entering the room.

 “What are you doing sitting there on the ground?” The boy looked up at her. For a moment, they stared at each other in silence. Carmen noticed that the little boy’s eyes were the color of chocolate, like Mr. Mendoza’s, but much more vulnerable. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” Carmen asked, crouching down several feet away so as not to frighten him. The boy didn’t answer, of course.

 He was too young to speak clearly, but he didn’t cry or show any signs of aggression. He simply watched her with an intensity unusual for his age. Carmen began picking up the books from the floor, speaking softly to him as she worked. “My, my, what lovely books you have. This one has a little bear, see? And this other one has a little yellow duck.”

 “Do you like ducklings?” To her surprise, the little boy reached for the duckling book. Carmen slowly brought it closer, keeping a safe distance. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? My little brother Javier had a book like that when he was a baby. He loved it when I read him the story before bed.” As she spoke, Carmen noticed the boy seemed to relax.

 His shoulders relaxed, his breathing became calmer, and for the first time since he’d entered the room, he didn’t look like a cornered little animal. “Do you want me to tell you the story of the little duckling?” Carmen asked, sitting down on the floor a safe distance away. The boy nodded slightly. Carmen felt a pang of emotion.

 After everything she’d heard about this little boy’s aggressive behavior, it seemed completely normal. She began to tell the story of the little yellow duckling, using different voices for the characters and gesturing gently. The boy watched her with rapt attention, as if every word were a treasure.

 Gradually, Carmen moved a little closer until she was sitting barely a meter away. And then the little duckling found his mother, who had been searching for him all over the pond. Carmen continued in a melodious voice. My little one called her Mama Duck and hugged her very, very tightly. As she said this, she noticed that the child’s eyes filled with tears, but not tears of anger as before, but tears of a deep, heartbreaking sadness.

 Carmen understood immediately. This little boy missed his mother. Without a second thought, she opened her arms to him. “Do you want a hug, little one? Hugs heal all sorrows.” The boy looked at her for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. Then, slowly, he crawled toward her and snuggled into her arms.

 Carmen hugged him tenderly, feeling the little boy’s tense body relax completely against her chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart, everything’s going to be alright,” she whispered, gently stroking his damp curls. “Carmen is here with you.” For the first time in months, the Mendoza mansion was filled with a peaceful silence. The boy had fallen asleep in Carmen’s arms, breathing softly, his serene expression transforming his face completely.

 Carmen remained motionless, gently rocking the baby, when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Her heart raced as she realized she had disobeyed the keyholder’s direct instructions. But when she looked up at the door, what she saw left her paralyzed.

 Diego Mendoza stood in the doorway, eyes wide, observing a scene he hadn’t witnessed since his wife’s death. His son slept peacefully in someone else’s arms, a barely perceptible smile playing on their lips. Diego remained motionless in the doorway, afraid that any movement might break the spell. He had waited 18 months to see this exact scene.

 Her son was sleeping peacefully, his little fists unclenched, his cheeks dry with tears, simply at peace. Carmen looked up at him apologetically, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Mr. Mendoza, I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I heard noises and thought maybe Diego had gently raised his hand, asking for silence.”

 His voice, when he finally spoke, came out as a rough whisper. “How long has he been asleep like that?” “About 20 minutes, sir. He fell asleep after I told him a story.” Diego entered the room slowly, his leather shoes barely making a sound on the carpet. He sat on the edge of the bed, observing Mateo’s relaxed face.

 It was the first time in months that she could look at her son without seeing any trace of frustration or pain on his face. “Did you tell him a story?” she asked, genuine disbelief in her voice. “Yes, sir. The one about the little yellow duckling looking for its mother. He seems to have liked it a lot.” Diego closed his eyes for a moment. Elena used to tell Mateo that same story when he was a newborn.

 It was possible the child remembered him somehow. Mr. Mendoza. Carmen hesitated before continuing. May I ask you what exactly is wrong with Mateo? Mrs. García mentioned he has behavioral problems, but with me he behaved like any normal baby. Diego studied her closely for the first time. Carmen looked a little over 20.

 Her brown hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and her green eyes radiated sincerity. She wore the standard uniform of domestic workers, but there was something about her posture, the natural way she held Mateo, that painfully reminded him of Elena. “His mother died when he was six months old,” Diego explained in a measured tone.

 Since then, Mateo has developed extreme aggression toward anyone who tries to care for him. He has bitten 15 nannies, three doctors, the housekeeper, the gardener—practically everyone who comes near him. Carmen frowned, processing the information. She considered the possibility that it wasn’t real aggression, but fear. Fear.

Psychologists talk about trauma, attachment disorder, but they never mentioned fear. You see, Mr. Mendoza, I’m the oldest of four siblings. I’ve cared for children for as long as I can remember, and I’ve learned that young children who have lost their mothers sometimes develop a very particular form of self-protection.

 They attack before being abandoned because in their childish minds all maternal figures will eventually disappear. Diego looked at her with renewed interest. This young domestic worker had just articulated something that no specialist with university degrees had managed to explain so clearly.

 But you, he didn’t attack you. Carmen smiled gently, stroking Mateo’s back in circular motions. Perhaps because I didn’t approach him like a nanny, I approached him as someone who simply wanted to get to know him, without expectations, without the intention of replacing anyone.

 At that moment, Mateo stirred slightly in Carmen’s arms, letting out a small sigh. His eyelids fluttered as if he were dreaming. Diego held his breath, expecting him to wake up crying as he always did, but the child simply snuggled closer to Carmen’s chest and continued sleeping.

 “This is impossible,” Diego muttered, more to himself than to Carmen. The doctors said he would need years of therapy, possibly medication. They even mentioned a specialized boarding school, a residential facility. Carmen couldn’t hide her surprise, and Diego noticed a hint of indignation. “Mr. Mendoza, with all due respect, Mateo doesn’t need to be away from you.”

He needed to feel safe and secure, knowing he wouldn’t be abandoned again. Diego felt like he’d been punched in the gut. For months he’d considered every career option. He’d spent a fortune on medical consultations and specialized treatments, but he’d never considered the simplest possibility.

 that her son simply needed to feel unconditionally loved. How could she be so sure of that? She’d only known him for a few hours. Carmen looked him straight in the eyes, unfazed by his position or his slightly defensive tone. Because when he hugged me, he didn’t do it like an aggressive or traumatized child.

 He did it like a child who had long awaited someone to hold him without expecting anything in return. Silence fell between them. Diego watched as Carmen gently rocked Mateo, humming softly a melody he didn’t recognize, but which seemed to mesmerize the child. It was clear she had a natural talent, something that couldn’t be learned in books or universities.

 “Where did you learn so much about children?” he finally asked. “In my neighborhood, Mr. Mendoza, when your mother works 14 hours a day to support the family, you learn to take care of your younger siblings. When your neighbors need someone to watch their children while they clean offices at night, you become a babysitter without even realizing it. I don’t have any university degrees, but I have real-world experience.” Diego nodded slowly.

There was something refreshingly honest about the way Carmen spoke, very different from the technical language and complicated theories of the specialists she had consulted. Carmen began to speak, but stopped when she realized it was the first time she had said his name aloud. Yes, sir.

 “Would you be willing to watch Mateo while I work this afternoon? Just for a few hours to see if…” “Of course, Mr. Mendoza, it would be an honor.” Diego felt a strange mixture of relief and anxiety. For the first time in months, the idea of ​​leaving his son with someone didn’t send him into a state of complete panic. “There’s something else you should know,” Carmen added gently.

 When I told him the story of the little duckling looking for its mother, Mateo started to cry, but it wasn’t anger, it was sadness. I think he understands more than we all realize about what happened to his mother. Diego closed his eyes, feeling a lump form in his throat. Elena had been right.

 Babies were far more perceptive than people realized. Mateo had been crying in pain the whole time, and everyone had misinterpreted his pain as aggression. Three hours later, Diego returned from his meetings with a completely new perspective.

 For the first time in months, he hadn’t obsessively checked his phone, waiting for emergency calls from home. Throughout the board meeting, a part of his mind had remained calm, trusting that Mateo was in good hands. As he walked through the front door, he was greeted by a sound he hadn’t heard since before Elena’s death.

 Children’s laughter mingled with a woman’s soft singing voice. She followed the sound to the back garden, where she stopped short at the scene unfolding before her eyes. Carmen sat cross-legged on the grass while Mateo crawled around her, chasing soap bubbles that floated in the golden evening air.

 The boy let out little squeals of joy each time he managed to catch a bubble. And Carmen clapped, celebrating each of his achievements as if it were the most important discovery in the world. “Well done, champ!” Carmen exclaimed. “You’re the fastest bubble catcher in all of Madrid!”

 Mateo turned to her with a radiant smile, his cheeks flushed pink from activity and his curls shimmering in the sunlight. It was the widest and most genuine smile Diego had seen on his son’s face in as long as he could remember. “Want more bubbles, little one?” Carmen asked, dipping the plastic ring into the soapy solution.

 Mateo clapped awkwardly with his chubby little hands, babbling something that vaguely sounded like “ma.” Diego felt his heart stop. Mateo had said “mama” for the first time, and he had said it to Carmen. Carmen seemed to sense the importance of the moment too, because she stood motionless for a few seconds with the bubble ring suspended in the air.

 Then, with a tender smile, she approached the boy and stroked his head. “Oh, my darling, you’re so cute,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “Your dad will be so proud when he finds out you’re saying your first words.” Diego cleared his throat softly to announce his presence.

 Carmen jumped slightly and began to stand, but he gestured for her to remain seated. “Please don’t get up. I don’t want to interrupt this,” he said, gesturing to the idyllic scene with a mixture of awe and something she hesitated to identify as hope. “Mr. Mendoza, you’ve returned earlier than expected,” Carmen said, a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

 “I hope you don’t mind us coming out into the garden.” It was such a beautiful day, and Mateo seemed eager for some fresh air. “How have you been?” Diego asked, approaching slowly. “Wonderful. He slept for two hours straight after you left.”

 When he woke up, he ate all his porridge without complaining and even tried to use the spoon by himself. Afterwards, we played in the living room with building blocks, and we came out here half an hour ago. Diego sat in one of the wrought-iron chairs surrounding the garden table, watching Mateo continue chasing bubbles with childlike determination. Carmen, may I ask you a personal question? Of course, sir.

 Do you have children of your own? Carmen shook her head, a fleeting shadow crossing her face. No, sir, I’ve never been married. I’ve dedicated most of my adult life to caring for my siblings and helping my family financially. Children, well, I always thought they would come later, when circumstances were better.

 But it’s clear she has a natural gift with children. She never considered studying to be a teacher or early childhood educator. Carmen let out a soft laugh. But not a bitter one. Mr. Mendoza, when your family depends on every euro you earn to pay the rent and put food on the table, dreams of a university degree take a back seat.

 I finished high school working afternoons at a local daycare. I learned more about children in those two years than any book could have taught me. Diego nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed by her question. His world of privilege and unlimited opportunity sometimes made him forget the economic realities most people faced.

 At that moment, Mateo crawled straight toward his father, something he hadn’t done willingly in months. Diego held his breath, expecting the usual rejection, but to his surprise, the boy sat up, clutching his pants, and looked at him with curiosity, not hostility. “Hello, little one,” Diego murmured, his voice trembling.

 Mateo mumbled something unintelligible and then pointed toward Carmen as if he were trying to introduce her to his father. “Yes, champ,” said Diego, feeling his eyes well up with tears. “Carmen is very special, isn’t she?” Carmen came over and sat down on the grass next to them. “Do you know what I’ve noticed today, Mr. Mendoza? Mateo is incredibly intelligent for his age.”

 He has solved puzzles that are usually difficult for 2-year-olds and has extraordinary concentration when something really interests him. Seriously, the doctors have always focused on his behavioral problems. They’ve never mentioned his abilities, perhaps because they’ve never seen him in an environment where he feels safe enough to show what he can really do,” Carmen suggested.

 “A child who lives in a constant state of alert cannot fully develop their cognitive potential.” Diego watched his son, who was now sitting between the two adults, looking alternately from one to the other, as if following the conversation. For the first time, Diego was able to see beyond the problematic behavior and recognize the brilliant intelligence that shone in Mateo’s dark eyes. “Carmen, I need to make you a proposal,” Diego said suddenly.

 “What you’ve done today with Mateo is a miracle. I want to offer you a permanent position as my son’s primary caregiver,” said Carmen Parpadeo, clearly surprised. “Mr. Mendoza, I’m not a professional nanny. I don’t have any certifications or references from specialized agencies.”

 I don’t care about certifications, I care about results. In one day, she’s achieved what specialists with years of training couldn’t accomplish in months. But what will Mrs. García and the rest of the staff say? I’m just a cleaning lady. Diego leaned forward, his expression completely serious. Carmen, my son is the most important thing in my life.

 If you can give him the emotional stability he needs, everything else is just minor details that can be worked out. Mateo chose that moment to crawl over to Carmen and snuggle up to her side, as if he had understood the conversation and was expressing his own opinion about it. Carmen looked at the boy, then at Diego, and finally nodded slowly.

 If you truly believe I can help Mateo, I accept, Mr. Mendoza, but on one condition. What is it? I want you to be actively involved in the process. Mateo doesn’t just need a caregiver; he needs to reconnect with his father, too. Diego felt a lump in his throat. For months, he had avoided spending quality time with his son, convinced that his presence only made things worse.

 But seeing how calmly Mateo behaved at that moment, she realized that perhaps he had been running from his own fears rather than protecting his son. A week later, the Mendoza mansion had undergone a radical transformation.

 The hallways that once echoed with desperate cries were now filled with joyful babbling and the soft murmur of Carmen singing nursery rhymes. The tension that had gripped the house for months had vanished like mist at dawn. Diego descended the stairs each morning with a feeling he had completely forgotten: positive anticipation.

 Instead of dreading the daily incident and crisis reports, he looked forward to the small accomplishments Carmen shared with him each afternoon. “Good morning, Mr. Mendoza,” Carmen greeted him from the living room where she sat on the floor building a tower of colorful blocks with Mateo. “Good morning, Carmen. How is our little architect this morning?” Carmen smiled, gesturing to the wobbly structure Mateo had created with minimal help.

 Today he built a tower of six blocks without it falling over. Yesterday he could barely manage three. His motor coordination is improving every day. Diego knelt beside them, watching as his son carefully placed a yellow block on top of a red one. The concentration on the little boy’s face was intense, and when he managed to keep his balance, Mateo clapped triumphantly.

 “Bravo, champ!” Diego exclaimed, and his reward was a radiant smile from his son. It was incredible how these simple interactions, which had once seemed impossible, now flowed naturally between father and son. “Mr. Mendoza,” Carmen said, a hint of shyness in her voice, “Could we talk about something important? Of course, okay?” Carmen glanced at Mateo, who was completely engrossed in his game, before continuing.

 I’ve been observing Mateo very closely this week, and I think he’s ready for the next step in his social development. What kind of next step? Interacting with other children his age. He’s been so isolated because of his past behavior that he hasn’t had a chance to socialize.

 But now that he’s more emotionally stable, I think he’d benefit from meeting other children. Diego frowned, feeling a familiar pang of anxiety. Carmen, don’t you think it’s too soon? It’s only been seven days since things improved. What if he starts showing aggression toward other children again? I understand your concern, Mr. Mendoza, but by keeping Mateo in a completely controlled environment, we might be limiting his development.

 Children learn fundamental social skills by playing with their peers. Diego ran his hand through his hair, a gesture Carmen had learned to recognize as a sign that he was processing difficult information. What exactly is she proposing? There’s a playground near my neighborhood where the mothers take their children in the afternoons.

 I thought we could take Mateo there for just an hour to see how he reacts. I’d be with him the whole time, and if he showed any signs of discomfort, we’d leave immediately. The idea of ​​exposing Mateo to the outside world after months of protective isolation terrified Diego. But at the same time, he knew Carmen was right.

 His son couldn’t live in a bubble forever. And if other parents recognize who I am, the financial press has published many photos of me lately because of the company’s expansion. Carmen looked at him understandingly. We could go dressed casually without the official car. No one would expect to find the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company in a neighborhood park.

 Mateo chose that moment to crawl toward his father and gently tug at his tie as if he were joining the conversation. Diego picked him up, surprised once again at how natural this gesture had become. “What do you think, little one? Would you like to meet other children?” Mateo babbled happily and pointed toward the window as if he understood the suggestion.

 “Okay,” Diego finally said, “but we’ll all go together. I want to be there the first time.” Carmen’s face lit up. “Perfect. How about this afternoon after your nap?” Two hours later, Diego found himself in a completely surreal situation, sitting on a worn wooden bench in a small public park, dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, watching Carmen help Mateo slide down a tiny slide.

 The contrast with his usual life was striking. Normally, at this hour, he would be in high-stakes meetings, making decisions that affected hundreds of employees and millions of euros. Instead, here he was, completely absorbed, watching his son experience the simple joy of playing in the sand. “Look, Daddy!” Carmen called, lifting Mateo up towards him.

 He loves the swing. Diego smiled, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. Carmen had started calling him “Dad” when she spoke to Mateo. And although it had initially seemed odd, now he found he liked hearing it. Other children began to approach Mateo, curious.

 A little girl, about two years old, with blonde pigtails, approached, offering a red plastic bucket. Diego immediately tensed, ready to intervene if Mateo showed any signs of aggression, but what he witnessed took his breath away. Your son carefully took the bucket, examined it for a moment, and then handed it back to the girl with what appeared to be a shy smile.

 “Incredible!” Diego muttered to himself. Carmen approached the bench where he was sitting. “Look what’s happening. Mateo wasn’t aggressive by nature; he was defensive because he felt threatened. Now that he feels safe, his true personality can emerge.” And what is his true personality? He is gentle, curious, intelligent, and surprisingly empathetic for his age.

Watch how he interacts with that little girl. Diego followed Carmen’s gaze and saw that Mateo had begun stacking sand blocks next to the girl, mimicking her movements and babbling as if they were having a serious conversation about children’s architecture. “Carmen,” Diego began, but stopped, unsure how to express what he felt. “Yes, Mr. Mendoza.”

 In one week you have achieved something I thought impossible. You have brought my son back, you have brought happiness back to our home. Carmen blushed slightly. I haven’t done anything extraordinary, sir. I have simply treated Mateo as what he is: a normal child who needed to feel unconditionally loved. “But it’s more than that,” Diego insisted.

 “You saw potential where others only saw problems. You had patience where I lost hope.” They remained silent for a few moments, watching as Mateo continued playing peacefully with the other children. The scene was so normal, so perfectly ordinary, that Diego felt an overwhelming emotion. “Can I tell you something, Carmen?” “Of course.”

He had begun to believe he was a failure as a father, that perhaps Mateo would be better off without him in some specialized institution where they knew how to manage his behavior. Carmen looked at him with understanding eyes. “A father’s love is never a failure, Mr. Mendoza.”

 Sometimes we just need help finding the right way to express it. Diego nodded, feeling something inside his chest loosen after months of constant tension. “Do you know what the strangest thing about all this is?” he asked. “What? For the first time since Elena’s death, I can imagine a future where Mateo and I are truly happy.” Three weeks had passed since that first day in the park, and the daily routine at the Mendoza mansion had settled into a harmonious rhythm that Diego had never thought possible.

 However, something had changed in the atmosphere that Thursday morning. Carmen seemed distant, and although she maintained her usual professionalism with Mateo, Diego noticed a subtle sadness in her green eyes. “Carmen, are you alright?” Diego asked as they had breakfast on the terrace.

 Mateo sat in his highchair, happily eating pieces of fruit that Carmen had cut into fun shapes. “I’m perfectly fine, Mr. Mendoza,” Carmen replied, but she avoided his gaze as she wiped Mateo’s sticky hands. Diego frowned. He had learned to read Carmen’s expressions during these weeks of living together, and something was definitely bothering her.

 Have you heard from your family? Is everything alright at home? Carmen hesitated before answering. My little brother Javier has gotten a partial scholarship to study engineering at the Complutense University. It’s an incredible opportunity for him. That’s wonderful news, said Diego, genuinely pleased. You must be very proud. I am, Carmen murmured.

 But the scholarship only covers tuition. She needs money for books, materials, transportation, and maybe accommodation if she manages to get into a student residence. Diego began to understand the dilemma. Carmen had spent years sacrificing her own dreams to support her family, and now she faced a difficult crossroads.

 How much money would Javier need? Carmen blushed deeply. Mr. Mendoza, I didn’t mean to ask for financial help, I was just explaining why I’ve been a little distracted. I know, but I would like to help if you’ll allow me. I can’t accept charity, sir. You already pay me much more than any caregiver would normally earn. Diego leaned forward in his chair.

 Carmen, it wouldn’t be charity. It would be an investment in the education of a talented young man, the brother of the person who saved my family’s sanity. Consider it a Mendoza Foundation scholarship. Carmen’s eyes filled with tears that she tried to hold back. Mr. Mendoza, you are very generous, but… but no.

 Diego interrupted gently. “Your brother deserves that opportunity, and you deserve not to have to choose between your family’s future and your job here.” Mateo, oblivious to the emotional conversation unfolding around him, began tapping his milk cup against the highchair tray, producing a cheerful rhythm that brought involuntary smiles to both adults’ faces.

 “Look at that,” Diego said, pointing at his son. “He’s got a sense of rhythm. Maybe he’s a natural musician.” Carmen discreetly wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Or maybe he just likes to make noise like any other kid his age. She laughed softly. Just then, Mrs. García appeared on the terrace, looking worried.

Mr. Mendoza’s assistant just called. She says it’s urgent. Diego sighed. Urgent calls from Cristina, his executive assistant, had decreased considerably since his home life had settled down, but when they did occur, they usually signified genuine crises.

 He asked, “What was it about?” Something about an emergency meeting with the Japanese investors. Apparently, there are problems with the expansion contract to Asia. Diego looked at Carmen apologetically. “I have to leave immediately. This meeting could determine the future of the company’s international expansion.” “Of course, Mr. Mendoza.”

Mateo and I will be fine. Will he be here when I get back tonight? Carmen nodded, but Diego noticed a fleeting shadow in her expression that he couldn’t quite decipher. Eight hours later, Diego was returning home mentally exhausted. The meeting with the Japanese investors had been intense, requiring all his concentration and diplomatic skills to salvage a €50 million contract.

 For years, these kinds of professional victories had been his only source of personal satisfaction. Now, all he wanted was to get home and see Mateo and Carmen’s smiles. However, upon entering the mansion, he was greeted by an unusual silence. Normally, at this hour, Mateo would be having dinner while Carmen told him stories or sang songs.

 He followed the sound of muffled voices to the main living room, where he found a scene that completely baffled him. Carmen was sitting on the sofa with Mateo in her arms, but she wasn’t alone. A young man, about 20 years old, with features similar to Carmen’s, was sitting opposite her. There was a palpable tension between them.

 “Mr. Mendoza,” Carmen said, rising quickly. “I’d like to introduce you to my brother, Javier. He came to visit me after hearing about the scholarship.” Javier stood and extended his hand toward Diego, his expression a mixture of nervousness and determination. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mendoza. Carmen has told me a lot about you and Mateo.” “The pleasure is all mine, Javier.”

 Carmen told me about her scholarship. Congratulations. Thank you, sir, but I came to talk to Carmen about something important. Diego noticed Carmen avoiding his gaze again, and an uneasy feeling began to form in his stomach. What is it? Javier glanced at his sister before continuing.

 Mr. Mendoza, my family is incredibly grateful for everything you’ve done for Carmen and for offering to help with my studies, but we can’t accept your generosity. Why not? Because it’s not fair to Carmen, Javier replied firmly. She’s sacrificed too much for us for too many years. She’s worked since she was a teenager to support us.

 She has given up on her own dreams, postponed her own life time and time again. Diego looked at Carmen, whose eyes were fixed on the floor as she gently rocked Mateo. “I don’t understand what the problem is.” “The problem,” Javier continued, “is that Carmen is falling in love with you and Mateo, and that’s trapping her in a situation that can’t end well for anyone.” The words landed in the room like a silent bomb.

Diego felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. Carmen stiffened completely, and Mateo, sensitive to the sudden tension, began to fidget in her arms. “Javier, please,” Carmen murmured, her voice barely audible. “No, Carmen, someone has to say it,” her brother insisted. “You two live in completely different worlds.”

 He’s a millionaire. You’re a domestic worker. This situation can only end in pain for you. And I won’t allow you to sacrifice your heart like you’ve sacrificed everything else for our family. Diego remained motionless, processing Javier’s words.

 For weeks he had felt a growing connection with Carmen, but he had attributed that feeling to gratitude and professional admiration. Was it possible that something deeper was developing between them? Carmen finally said in a husky voice, “Is what your brother says true?” Carmen looked up at him, and Diego saw a vulnerability in her green eyes.

 which broke his heart. “Mr. Mendoza,” he began, but his voice cracked. Mateo chose that moment to reach out to his father, as if he felt the need to connect the two most important adults in his world. Diego took him in his arms, and for a moment the three of them formed a perfect family tableau, one that both Diego and Carmen had secretly begun to long for, but which circumstances made seem impossible.

 Silence filled the room like a thick fog. Diego held Mateo to his chest, feeling his own heart pounding as he waited for Carmen to answer his question. Her eyes glistened with tears, and for the first time since he’d known her, she seemed completely vulnerable. Carmen took a shaky breath.

 It wasn’t my intention for this to happen, Mr. Mendoza. When I agreed to take care of Mateo, my only intention was to help a child who needed affection. But you and he, you two became something I never expected to find. Javier approached his sister and placed a protective hand on her shoulder.

 Carmen had been awake the last few nights, tormented by these feelings. It wasn’t fair to her to live hoping for something we knew was impossible. Diego felt a pang of pain at Javier’s words. It truly was impossible. Over these past weeks, he had begun to see Carmen not just as Mateo’s caregiver, but as an extraordinary woman who had brought light and warmth to his devastated home.

 “Why do you assume it’s impossible?” Diego asked, surprising himself with the question. Javier looked at him incredulously. “Mr. Mendoza, with all due respect, you live in a world of luxury and power. Carmen comes from a working-class neighborhood where people struggle every day to survive.”

 His friends, his business partners, society in general. Do you really think they would accept a relationship between the two of you? I don’t care what society thinks,” Diego replied, more firmly than he expected. “Perhaps you don’t care,” Carmen interjected, her voice soft but determined. “But I do care about what this could mean for your reputation and for Mateo’s future.”

 He deserves to grow up in a stable environment, not amidst social scandals.” Diego sat down on the sofa across from them, still holding Mateo, who seemed fascinated by the emotional intensity of the conversation. “Carmen, for months I lived in a nightmare where my son rejected me and I sank into despair. You not only healed Mateo, you healed me too.”

 How can I ignore that? Because gratitude isn’t love, Mr. Mendoza, Carmen said, tears finally rolling down her cheeks. And I don’t want to be loved out of gratitude or convenience. I deserve something real, something genuine. Carmen’s words hit Diego like a hammer. She was right. His feelings toward her were either love or simply gratitude mixed with the comfort of having someone who solved his problems. And what do you really feel for me? Diego asked.

 Her voice was barely a whisper. Carmen closed her eyes for a moment before answering. “I feel that when you enter a room, the world becomes brighter. I feel that when you look at me and smile, all the weariness of years of working to support my family disappears. I feel that when the three of us play together in the garden, I’m living the life I always dreamed of, but never thought possible.”

Diego felt as if something inside his chest had broken. It wasn’t gratitude he felt for Carmen. It was something much deeper and more terrifying. Carmen began, but she interrupted him. “But I’m also afraid,” she continued. “Afraid that this is just a beautiful fantasy that will end up hurting us all.”

Fear that you’ll tire of playing the happy family with the maid. Fear that Mateo will grow up confused about who I really am in his life. Mateo, as if he understood that they were talking about him, turned in his father’s arms and reached out his little hands toward Carmen, clearly babbling “ma.” “Come here,” Javier said in a soft but firm voice.

 “That child already considers her his mother. What will happen when this is over? When you marry someone of your social class and Carmen has to leave, Mateo will lose another maternal figure, and Carmen, Carmen will never recover.” Diego looked at his son, who continued to reach out to Carmen insistently.

 The reality of Javier’s words hit him with brutal force. If there was any chance this situation would end badly, he would be the one to suffer the most emotional consequences. Carmen approached and took Mateo in her arms, who immediately snuggled against her neck. “Mr. Mendoza,” she said in a trembling but determined voice.

“I think Javier is right. This situation has become too emotionally complicated. Perhaps it would be best if I found a professional caregiver for Mateo. Are you quitting?” Diego asked, genuine panic in his voice. “I’m protecting all of us from greater pain in the future.”

 Diego stood up abruptly, running his hands through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “Carmen, in two months you’ve achieved what months of professional therapy couldn’t. Mateo is happy, healthy, and developing normally. How can I leave Jair? Because sometimes loving someone means doing what’s best for them, not what we want for ourselves,” Carmen replied, gently kissing Mateo’s forehead.

 Javier watched the exchange with a somber expression. “Mr. Mendoza, I understand this is difficult for you too, but my sister has dedicated her entire life to caring for others. For once, someone has to take care of her.” Diego looked at them both, feeling as if he were losing something precious that he had only just begun to understand.

 For years after Elena’s death, he had believed he would never feel romantic love again. Now, realizing that he could love again, the person who had awakened those feelings was willing to leave to protect him. “What if I don’t care about social differences?” he asked desperately. “What if I’m willing to face any scandal or criticism?” Carmen looked at him with a heartbreaking mixture of love and sadness.

 Mr. Mendoza, you say that now in the heat of the moment, but when reality sets in, when your partners question your decisions, when the tabloids publish articles about the millionaire and his maid, when the parents at Mateo’s exclusive school murmur about your choice, you will still feel the same.

 Diego wanted to protest, wanted to assure her that none of it mattered, but the words caught in his throat. Carmen was right to question the durability of his feelings under social pressure. “I need to think about it,” he finally admitted. “This is all very overwhelming.” Carmen nodded, understanding and pain in her eyes. “Of course.”

 Meanwhile, I think it’s best if I take a few days off. This will give us both perspective and time to decide what’s right. Who will take care of Mateo? Mrs. Garcia can do it temporarily. Mateo knows her and trusts her now that he’s more emotionally stable.

 Diego felt as if his carefully reconstructed world was about to collapse again, but looking at Carmen’s determined face, he knew there was no argument that could change her mind. At that moment, five days had passed since Carmen left the mansion, and Diego was living in a hell of his own making.

 Mateo had reverted to a state of constant irritability, though not as severe as before. He cried for Carmen, asked about her in his babbling, and rejected Mrs. García’s attempts to comfort him. Diego was sitting in his office pretending to review financial reports when he heard the familiar footsteps of his executive assistant, Cristina Vega, approaching down the hall.

 “Good morning, Mr. Mendoza,” Cristina said as she entered, carrying a tablet and wearing her usual expression of professional efficiency. “We need to review next week’s schedule, and there are several urgent matters that require your attention.” Diego looked up from the documents he hadn’t really been reading. “Good morning, Cristina. Please proceed.”

 Cristina had worked for him for five years, and Diego acknowledged that she was a brilliant woman. She was 30 years old, held a prestigious MBA, came from a wealthy family, and had proven invaluable to the growth of his company. She was also beautiful, elegant, and exactly the type of woman society would expect him to court.

“On Monday, she has lunch with the directors of the Swiss Investment Bank,” Cristina began. “On Tuesday, the board of directors has scheduled an extraordinary meeting to review the third-quarter figures.” On Wednesday, Cristina’s voice faded into the background as Diego watched her objectively.

For years he had noticed the lingering glances she gave him, the smiles that lasted a second longer than professionally necessary, the way she found excuses to work late when he stayed at the office. Cristina, he interrupted gently.

 May I ask you a personal question? She blinked, surprised by the change in the conversation. Of course, Mr. Mendoza, if I were to invite you to dinner, would you accept? Cristina’s face lit up with a radiant smile that she tried to conceal with professionalism. It would be an honor, Mr. Mendoza. Diego nodded slowly. It would be so easy.

 Cristina understood his world, shared his ambitions, and would fit perfectly into his social circle. His parents would adore her. The press would applaud the union, and Mateo would grow up in a socially acceptable environment. “I can send a car to pick her up tonight at 8.” “Perfect,” Cristina replied, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Any particular restaurant?” “El Lorenzo.”

 I’ll have a private table set. After Cristina left, Diego leaned back in his leather chair, feeling strangely empty, despite having made what seemed like a logical decision. Carmen was right. He needed someone from his world, someone who understood the pressures and expectations of his social standing.

 That afternoon, upon returning home, he found Mateo sitting on the living room floor, listlessly pushing his toys around without his usual enthusiasm. Mrs. García was sitting nearby, watching him with maternal concern. “How has he been today?” Diego asked, kneeling beside his son. “Better than yesterday, sir, but he keeps asking about Carmen.”

 This morning he crawled to her room and sat in front of the door as if waiting for her to appear. Diego felt a pang of guilt. He picked Mateo up and the boy snuggled against him, but without the spontaneous joy that had characterized his interactions with Carmen during the past few weeks. “Mrs. García, I’m going out to dinner tonight. Could I watch Mateo?” “Of course, sir.”

 May I ask? It’s an appointment. Diego hesitated before answering, “Yes, with Cristina Vega, my executive assistant.” Mrs. García nodded diplomatically, but Diego noticed a shadow of concern in her experienced eyes. Mr. Mendoza, if I may make an observation, in all these years working for your family, I’ve never seen Mateo as happy as he was with Carmen, and I’ve never seen you so relaxed and content.

 The circumstances were complicated, Mrs. Garcia. Love is always complicated, sir, but that doesn’t mean we should run away from it. Three hours later, Diego was sitting at the most exclusive table in Lorenzo’s restaurant, watching as Cristina recounted amusing anecdotes about her business trips to New York.

 She was radiant, dressed in an elegant black dress that accentuated her slender figure, and she conversed with the sophistication that only years of privileged education could provide. And then the hedge fund manager told me he had never met such a young woman with such a deep understanding of emerging markets. Cristina laughed melodiously.

It was very flattering, though I suspect he was trying to impress me to get a meeting with you. Diego smiled politely, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about Carmen telling Mateo stories in funny voices, her genuine laughter when the boy did something amusing, the natural way she transformed the simplest moments into something magical.

 “Diego, are you alright?” Cristina asked, gently touching his hand. “You seem distant.” “I’m sorry, Cristina, it’s been a difficult week with Mateo.” “I completely understand. Children can be very demanding. Once we’re married, we might consider hiring a live-in nanny.”

 That way you’d have more freedom to focus on the company. The words, “once we’re married,” echoed in Diego’s head like an alarm. Cristina was already planning a future together based on a single dinner. “Cristina, I think there’s a misunderstanding.” “No, there isn’t,” she interrupted gently. “Diego, we’ve been working together for five years. I’ve been patiently waiting for you to recover from grieving Elena’s death.”

 I know I can be exactly what you need: a partner who understands your world, who supports your ambitions, who can represent you with dignity at social events. Diego looked at her intently. Everything she said made perfect logical sense. Cristina would be an ideal wife according to any social or professional standard, but as he listened to her speak, he realized something fundamental.

 I felt absolutely nothing for her beyond professional respect and superficial appreciation. Cristina, you’re an extraordinary woman, but you’re in love with the housekeeper. She finished with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Yes, I heard. Gossip travels fast in small circles like ours. Diego remained silent, surprised by the comment.

 How long have you known? For a week now. My cousin Victoria lives near your house and saw her walking in the garden with you and Mateo. I thought maybe it was just a phase, which is understandable after everything you’d been through with your son. But when you invited me to dinner tonight, I knew you were trying to convince yourself that you could forget her.

 Diego leaned back in his chair, feeling completely exposed. “It’s so obvious to someone who knows you like I do.” “Yes, Diego, I’ve been in love with you for years, but I’m not stupid. I know when a man is head over heels for another woman.” “Cristina, I’m sorry, don’t apologize. Just tell me one thing, do you really think you can be happy with someone like me?” Knowing how you feel about her, Diego closed his eyes for a moment, finally allowing himself to admit the truth he’d been avoiding.

No, I can’t. Cristina nodded sadly, but without bitterness. Then stop torturing yourself and go find her. Life is too short to waste true love for social pride. And what if it doesn’t work out? What if the differences between us are too great, and what if it does work out?

 What if love is stronger than social conventions? Diego, for years I’ve seen you run your company with decisiveness and courage. Why can’t you make that same decision with your personal life? Diego looked at Cristina with newfound admiration. She was not only professionally competent, but also generous and wise in matters of the heart.

 Thank you, Cristina, for understanding, for being honest, for letting yourself go and find the woman you truly love. He smiled sadly. It’s the least I can do for a friend. The next day, Diego woke up with a mental clarity he hadn’t experienced in days. Cristina’s words had echoed in his mind all night.

 Why couldn’t you make that same decision with your personal life? She was right. For years she had taken calculated risks in business. She had bet millions on ventures that others considered impossible. Why couldn’t she bet on love? She went straight to Mrs. Garcia’s office, where she found her preparing Mateo’s breakfast.

 “Mrs. García, I need Carmen’s address.” The housekeeper looked at him with a mixture of relief and satisfaction. It’s about time, Mr. Mendoza. The girl lives in the Lavapiés neighborhood, at 47 Argumosa Street, third floor, apartment B. How is Mateo this morning? Restless, as he has been these past few days. Last night he cried, calling for Carmen.

 I think that boy understands more than we realize about what’s going on. Diego nodded, feeling a newfound determination. He wasn’t just fighting for his own happiness, but for his son’s as well. Get Mateo ready. Let’s go find Carmen. Are you sure, sir? We don’t know how she’ll react.

 I’m sure I can’t go on living like this, and I’m sure Mateo can’t either. An hour later, Diego was driving his Mercedes through the narrow streets of Lavapiés, a neighborhood he’d never visited, despite having lived in Madrid his whole life. It was a completely different world from his own. Old buildings with weathered facades, laundry hanging from tiny balconies, small family-run shops, and a vibrant cultural diversity that contrasted sharply with the exclusive areas he usually frequented. He found number 47 after giving

He drove around several times through streets that barely allowed his car to pass. It was a five-story building with a worn green wooden door and an intercom that had clearly seen better days. Diego helped Mateo out of his car seat and up the worn marble stairs to the third floor.

His heart pounded as he searched for apartment B. He finally found it. A simple door with a small plaque that read “Rodriguez Family.” He rang the doorbell, hearing its metallic clang echo inside the apartment. After a few moments, he heard footsteps approaching and Carmen’s familiar voice on the other side of the door. “Who is Carmen?” “It’s Diego. I’m here with Mateo.”

The sound of several locks clicking open filled the air, and finally the door swung open, revealing Carmen with an expression of utter astonishment. She wore simple jeans and a white t-shirt, no makeup, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. To Diego, she had never looked more beautiful.

 Mr. Mendoza, what are you doing here? How did you get my address? I needed to see you. We needed to see you,” she said, pointing to Mateo, who, upon seeing Carmen, had begun to stir excitedly in his father’s arms. Carmen’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of the child. “Mommy, Mommy!” Mateo babbled, reaching his little arms desperately toward her. Carmen couldn’t resist and took the child in her arms.

 Mateo immediately calmed down, snuggling against her neck as if he had been waiting for this moment for an eternity. “Oh, my little one, how I’ve missed you,” Carmen murmured, kissing his curly head. “Carmen, please, can we talk?” Diego asked. She hesitated, glancing toward the interior of the apartment. “I don’t know, good idea, Mr. Mendoza.”

 My family is here, and please, just a few minutes. Carmen sighed and stepped aside to let him in. Diego entered a small but immaculately clean apartment. The living room was tiny, with a worn but comfortable sofa, a handmade coffee table, and family photographs in simple frames.

 Despite the obvious modesty, there was warmth and love in every corner. “Carmen, who was at the door?” a voice called from the kitchen. “That’s my boss, Mom, Mateo’s father.” A woman of about 50 appeared, drying her hands with an apron. She had the same green eyes as Carmen and an expression of curiosity mixed with nervousness. “Mrs. Rodriguez,” Diego said, extending his hand. “I’m Diego Mendoza.”

 It’s a pleasure to meet you. Carmen’s mother shook his hand somewhat shyly. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Mendoza. Carmen has told us a lot about you and little Mateo.” At that moment, Javier appeared from what seemed to be a bedroom, carrying books. His expression hardened when he saw Diego. “What are you doing here?” he asked bluntly.

 “Javier, please,” his mother gently chided him. “I came to talk to Carmen,” Diego replied calmly, “and ask her to come back.” “Why?” “To continue with this impossible situation that can only end up hurting my sister.” Diego looked directly at Javier, then at Mrs. Rodríguez, and finally at Carmen, who was holding Mateo while the boy happily played with a lock of her hair.

 I came to tell Carmen that I love her and to ask her to marry me. The silence that followed was so profound that you could hear the ticking of the wall clock in the kitchen. Carmen froze, staring at Diego, her eyes wide. Mrs. Rodríguez clutched her chest, and Javier dropped his books to the floor. “What? What did he say?” Carmen whispered.

 Diego approached her, taking her free hands in his. “I’ve said I love you, Carmen Rodríguez. Not out of gratitude, not out of convenience, but because you are the most extraordinary woman I have ever known, because you have filled my life and Mateo’s with a happiness I thought was lost forever, because when you’re not with us, the world loses its color.”

 But social differences, his reputation, Mateo’s future, Carmen stammered. All that matters less to me than your happiness and ours as a family. Carmen, I’ve been willing to risk millions in business investments. Why couldn’t I risk everything for the love of my life? Javier stepped forward, his expression still skeptical.

Mr. Mendoza, it’s easy to say those words in a moment of emotion, but when reality sets in, when your millionaire friends look down on you, when the press publishes humiliating articles about your Cinderella, when Javier— Diego interrupted him firmly.

 For five years I’ve run a company that’s now worth a billion euros. I’ve faced financial crises, fierce competition, and constant media pressure. If I can’t protect the woman I love from gossip, then I don’t deserve to be called a man. Mrs. Rodriguez approached her daughter and placed a loving hand on her cheek. “My dear child, what does your heart say?” Carmen looked at Mateo, who was watching her with his large, dark eyes.

 Then she looked at Diego, whose expression reflected complete vulnerability. “My heart says I love you both more than I thought it was possible to love anyone, but my head tells me this is too complicated. Carmen,” Diego said, kneeling in front of her. “Months ago, my head told me Mateo needed a specialized boarding school because I was incapable of being a good father.”

 My heart told me otherwise, but I didn’t listen. When I finally decided to follow my heart and trust you, my life changed completely. The best moments of my life have come when I stopped overthinking and simply felt. Carmen closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.

 When he opened them again, there was a new determination in his eyes. He was truly ready to face whatever came his way. The judgments, the criticism, the social pressure. With you by my side, I could face anything. Carmen looked at her family. Her mother smiled at her, her eyes brimming with tears. And although Javier was still worried, he could see love and support in her expression. Then, yes, Carmen whispered.

 Yes, Diego Mendoza, I will marry you. Mateo, as if he had perfectly understood what had just happened, clapped his chubby little hands and shouted, “Mom! Dad!” pointing at both adults alternately. And for the first time since Elena’s death, Diego felt that his family was complete.

 Three weeks after the engagement, the Mendoza mansion had become a whirlwind of wedding preparations. Diego had insisted on an intimate but elegant ceremony, aware that Carmen would be overwhelmed by a lavish celebration.

 However, what she hadn’t anticipated was the intensity of the public scrutiny her engagement had generated. The news had leaked to the media when a freelance photographer had captured images of Diego and Carmen strolling through the park with Mateo. The tabloid headline had been cruel and direct: Millionaire and his Cinderella, true love or marketing ploy?

Diego was in his office, reviewing with growing irritation the articles Cristina had compiled that morning, when Carmen came in carrying Mateo in her arms. “How’s my favorite family doing?” Diego asked, immediately closing his tablet to prevent Carmen from seeing the hurtful headlines.

 “Mateo just took three steps in a row without support,” Carmen announced with a radiant smile. “Our little one will be quite the runner before the wedding. Seriously, Diego jumped up excitedly, coming over to hug us both. Where did this miracle happen?” In the backyard, he let go of the iron table and walked straight towards me.

 It was as if he wanted to prove to me that he was ready to be the perfect page boy at our wedding. Diego smiled, but Carmen immediately noticed the tension in his shoulders. “What’s wrong, love? I know you well enough to know when something’s bothering you.” Diego sighed, knowing he couldn’t hide the truth from Carmen for much longer. “There have been some articles about us in the press.”

 Nothing we didn’t expect, but some people are unpleasant. Carmen left Mateo in his playpen and went over to Diego. What kind of unpleasant? The usual sensationalism, speculation about my motives, comments about the economic differences between us. Ridiculous theories about public image strategies.

 Carmen reached for the tablet Diego had closed. “Let me see them, Carmen.” “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Diego. If we’re going to face this together, I need to know exactly what we’re up against.” Reluctantly, Diego handed her the tablet. Carmen read silently for several minutes, her expression shifting from curiosity to pain and, finally, to determination. “The maid who married the millionaire,” she read aloud.

 Did Carmen Rodríguez calculate every move to seduce Spain’s richest widower? Child psychology experts question whether the alleged connection between the nanny and the troubled baby was genuine or manipulated. Diego watched as the words impacted Carmen, feeling a growing fury toward the journalists who dared to question the purity of the feelings of the woman he loved.

 “Carmen, you know none of this is true. The people who really know us, who have seen how you are with Mateo, who have witnessed our relationship, know it. But people who don’t know us are going to believe these versions,” Carmen interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. “Diego, have you thought about how this is going to affect Mateo when he grows up? What will happen when his classmates search online and find articles that describe his mother as an opportunist? By the time Mateo is old enough to understand these things, they will be…”

Old, forgotten news. Carmen sat on the sofa, her head in her hands. They won’t be, Diego. In the digital age, nothing is ever truly forgotten. These articles will exist forever. And whenever someone wants to hurt our family, they’ll bring them up. Diego knelt before her, taking her hands in his.

Are you having doubts about marrying me? Carmen looked up, her green eyes glistening with tears. I have doubts about whether it’s fair to you and Mateo for me to be a part of your lives when it means exposing you to this kind of scrutiny. Just then, the office phone rang.

 Diego initially ignored her, but her persistence forced him to answer. “Yes, Mr. Mendoza. This is Cristina. I’m sorry to bother you at home, but something has happened that you need to know about immediately.” “What is it?” “The members of the Board of Directors have called an extraordinary meeting for tomorrow morning.”

 Apparently, some major investors have expressed concerns about his personal situation and how it might affect the company’s image. Diego felt his blood run cold. What kind of concerns? I’d prefer to discuss it in person. Sir, you can come to the office this afternoon.

I’ll be there in an hour. Diego hung up the phone and looked at Carmen, who had overheard part of the conversation. It was about the company, wasn’t it? Carmen asked. The problems have already started. Carmen, this is temporary. People will forget about it soon. And Diego, stop it, Carmen interrupted, standing up.

 We can’t keep pretending this won’t have real consequences. Your company, which you’ve built over years, could be affected. Mateo could grow up being the subject of gossip and speculation. And you could end up regretting choosing love over logic. “I’ll never regret loving you.” That’s what you say now, but what will happen in five years when the consequences accumulate? Will you still feel the same? Diego approached her, putting his arms around her.

 Carmen, listen carefully. I’ve faced business crises that could have destroyed everything I’ve built. I’ve navigated volatile markets, cutthroat competition, and economic recessions. If I can’t protect my family from a few newspaper articles, then I don’t deserve to call myself a businessman. But this is different, Diego.

 This isn’t just about money or contracts. This is about reputations, about how society will judge us for the rest of our lives. Mateo, from his playpen, began to babble as if the tension were palpable. Carmen automatically went to comfort him, and the boy calmed down immediately at her presence. “See that?” Diego said. “That’s what’s real, Carmen.”

 The way Mateo needs you, the way I love you, the family we’ve built together—everything else is just noise. Carmen lifted Mateo into her arms, and the boy snuggled against her, clutching a lock of her hair in his tiny fist. “Maybe you’re right,” Carmen murmured. “But I need time to process all of this.”

 Tomorrow’s meeting, the articles, the implications for Mateo. What exactly are you saying? Carmen looked at him with eyes full of love and pain. I’m saying that maybe we should postpone the wedding until we know exactly how severe the consequences are going to be. Not cancel it.

 He quickly clarified upon seeing the panicked expression on Diego’s face, but they should wait until things calmed down. Diego felt as if the ground were shifting beneath his feet. After finally finding the courage to fight for his love, external reality threatened to separate him from Carmen once again.

 And if the waters never completely calm, then we’ll have to decide if we’re willing to live in a permanent storm. At that moment, as if he had understood the conversation, Mateo stretched out his little arms toward his father, babbling insistently, “Daddy.” Diego took him in his arms, and the child immediately brought his parents’ heads together with his tiny hands, as if trying to hold them physically together.

“Look at this, Carmen,” Diego said, his voice filled with emotion. “Mateo knows we’re a family. He doesn’t understand social classes or media scandals. He just knows he needs us both.” Carmen smiled through her tears, stroking Mateo’s cheek. “You’re right, but a child deserves to grow up in a stable environment, not in the middle of a media war.”

 So, we’ll do whatever it takes to protect him, but without giving up being a family. The board meeting had been as brutal as Diego had feared. For two hours, he had listened to investors and board members express their concerns about how his personal life might affect the company’s corporate image. Some had been diplomatically evasive, others brutally direct.

“Diego, we understand that the heart has its reasons,” Roberto Vázquez, the most senior investor, had said. “But the financial markets are ruthless. A tarnished corporate image can cost millions in lost contracts.” Diego had defended his position with the same passion he had shown in multimillion-dollar negotiations, but he could sense the resistance in the room.

 In the end, they had reached a temporary agreement. He would have three months to prove that his personal situation would not negatively affect the company’s results. Now, driving home, Diego reflected on the words he had heard. For the first time in his business career, he was facing an obstacle that he couldn’t solve with strategy or money: public perception.

 Upon entering the mansion, he found a scene that filled his heart with warmth. Carmen was sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by photo albums, while Mateo crawled around, exploring the scattered pictures. It was clear that Carmen had been looking at photos of Elena. “Hello,” Diego said softly, sitting down next to them.

 “Hello,” Carmen replied with a wistful smile. “Mrs. García brought me these albums. I wanted to get to know Elena better, to understand the woman who was my future husband’s first wife and the mother of my future child.” Diego picked up a photograph of Elena pregnant, radiant with happiness, her hands lovingly resting on her growing belly.

 She was beautiful, Carmen said, and you can see she loved you deeply. That’s right. But Carmen, Elena belongs to the past. You are my present and my future. Carmen took out another photograph, this one of Elena holding newborn Mateo. Diego, I’ve been thinking a lot since you left this morning about Elena, about us, about what it truly means to build a family.

 And what conclusion did you reach? Carmen looked directly into Diego’s eyes. Elena didn’t have to fight against public scrutiny for loving a millionaire. She belonged to your world from the beginning, but her love for you and Mateo was genuine, pure, without external complications.

 Diego frowned, unsure of where Carmen was going with this. “What are you trying to tell me?” “That I also genuinely love you, without complications, without ulterior motives. And the difference between Elena and me isn’t social class or bank account. The difference is that I constantly have to prove my love is real, while hers was never questioned.”

 Mateo crawled over to Carmen, carrying a crumpled photograph in his mouth. Carmen gently took it from him and smoothed it carefully. It was a picture of Elena and Diego at their wedding, both beaming with happiness. “Do you know what Mrs. García told me this morning?” Carmen continued. “She said Elena was a brave woman, that when the doctors told her the pregnancy could be risky because of a pre-existing heart condition, she decided to go ahead because she wanted to give you a child more than anything else in the world.”

 Diego felt a lump in his throat. It was a story he rarely shared with anyone. Elena risked her life for love. She died bravely, and I—I’ve been a coward. Carmen, you’re not a coward, you’re prudent, sensible. No, Diego, I’ve been letting fear and the opinions of others dictate my decisions.

 How can I honor Elena’s memory by being less brave than she was? Carmen stood up, a newfound determination shining in her green eyes. Diego Mendoza, I’m not going to postpone our wedding. Are you sure? After everything that’s happened—the articles, today’s meeting—I’m sure because I finally understood something fundamental. Elena fought against death for love.

I can fight off a few gossips for the same reason. Diego stood up and hugged her, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Carmen, today’s meeting wasn’t easy. I’ve been given an ultimatum: three months to prove that our relationship won’t harm the company.” “And how do you plan to do that?” Diego smiled.

 That smile that Carmen had learned to recognize as a sign that she had found a brilliant solution, doing what she does best: turning a challenge into an opportunity. Carmen, would you be willing to be the face of a new charitable foundation I’m considering creating? A foundation, the Elena and Carmen Mendoza Foundation for Child Development, focused on helping low-income families access quality childcare, early education, and psychological support for traumatized children.

Carmen’s eyes lit up. “Diego, that would be perfect. You’d transform from the employee who snagged the millionaire into the philanthropist who dedicates her life to helping children in need. And the best part is, it would be completely genuine, because I know your heart and I know it’s exactly the kind of work you’re passionate about.” Carmen kissed him impulsively.

You’re brilliant. But there’s one small change I’d like to make. What is it? That it be called the Elena Mendoza Foundation for Child Development. Elena deserves to be remembered for her own identity, not as part of a couple. And I want to build my own legacy alongside hers, not mixed with it.

 Diego looked at her with renewed admiration. Even in accepting a solution that would benefit her, Carmen was thinking of properly honoring the memory of his late wife. “I love you even more for saying that.” Mateo, who had been observing the emotional exchange, sat up, grabbing Carmen’s leg, and took two unsteady steps toward Diego before gently collapsing onto the rug.

 Both adults applauded excitedly. “He did it again!” Carmen exclaimed. “Our little genius is ready to walk down the aisle on our wedding day.” Diego lifted Mateo into the air, and the boy laughed with that pure, innocent laugh that had been absent from the house for far too long. “Do you know what the most amazing thing about all this is?” Diego asked.

 Mateo will never remember the newspaper articles or the difficult meetings. He will only remember growing up in a loving home with a mother who adored him unconditionally and a father who fought to keep his family together. Carmen snuggled against Diego as he held Mateo.

 And when he’s older and reads those articles online, he’ll also see all the lives we changed through the foundation, all the families we helped, all the good that came from our love. Exactly. The gossips write headlines, but we write the real story. Mateo babbled happily, and for the first time in weeks, what he said was perfectly clear. Family.

 Diego and Carmen looked at each other in amazement and emotion. Their son had uttered the most important word of all. “Yes, little one,” Carmen said, stroking his head. “We are a family, a family that will face everything together,” Diego added. And as the sun set over Madrid, painting the living room in golden hues, the Mendoza Rodríguez family embraced, knowing they had found something more valuable than any fortune.

 True, unbreakable, and eternal love. Six months later, when newspapers published photographs of the intimate yet elegant wedding, immediately followed by the announcement of the new charitable foundation and its first donation of 5 million euros, the tone of media coverage changed completely.

 The headline Diego framed in his office read: “The love story that inspired a charitable revolution. How the millionaire and his wife are changing lives across Spain.” But the real prize wasn’t hanging on any wall; it was in their home every night. Mateo running happily between his parents, Carmen developing educational programs that would help thousands of children.

 And Diego discovered that the greatest success of his life wasn’t measured in euros, but in smiles, hugs, and the word “family” spoken with boundless love. In the end, the baby who once bit all the nannies had found not just a mother, but a whole family willing to weather any storm to stay together. M.